


A Thing About You

by maven



Series: The Thing-verse [16]
Category: E.R.
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maven/pseuds/maven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year in the life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing About You

**Author's Note:**

> This series is mainly canon up to the end of Season 7 where it becomes alternative universe. Everything on the show beyond that point is in the vague realm of "didn't happen"... sort of like the sequels to the Matrix and Star Wars 1-3.

**OCTOBER**

It's strange being on this side of it.

"We have a blood type on file?"

"O positive."

"Get me two units and call up for more. We may have to go in. Kim, keep your eyes open. The contractions have stopped. Hold on."

I'd always understood why the family tried to follow them into the trauma room.

"BP 95 over 60. Pulse 50."

And I'd always told myself that, if it were me, I'd stay out of the room. Stay out of the way.

"Too slow. Get surgery and obstetrics down here stat. Kim! Open your eyes!"

Which explained why I was standing in Trauma Two in danger of being hit by one of the doors as Haleh burst in with two bags of O pos blood. Watching the two people I loved most in the world fighting for their lives.

"That's it, Kim. Stay focused on us. Fetal monitor?"

"Got a reading. Not good. Fetal distress."

Gabriel Kerrison Legaspi.

"BP dropping. Loosing rhythm."

Kim Anne Legaspi.

"Kerry, what happened?"

I look up from the figure on the gurney to John. "Umm, nothing. I mean…" Oh God.

"Kerry."

I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the paralysis of remembered guilt for being absent the first time and the present guilt for being useless this time.

"She was complaining of mild BH contractions for about an hour," I manage after a few seconds that dragged like hours. "We tried the usual but they didn't stop. Hemorrhaging began about fifteen minutes ago. I called 911 immediately and tried to control the bleeding but…"

"Right. Where is surgery?"

"On the way, Doctor Carter. Obstetrics can't send anyone down for at least half an hour."

"Pediatrics is here."

The current of moving bodies push me further into the corner as Finch and then Benton arrive and are quickly updated.

"What week?" Benton asks the room.

"Twenty-five," I answer before Cleo can. Statistically this puts him in the fifty to eighty percent survival range. One more week and we'd by approaching ninety percent. Seven short days.

"Good. The Betamethasone has had a couple of weeks to work on the lungs. Peter?"

"We'll go with an emergency C. She prepped?"

"I started a block immediately in anticipation."

"Excellent. We'll do it here. Clear the room."

I know he means me. I can't move but Haleh sees me, taking me firmly by my arm and pulling me from the room. She doesn't bother to speak, simply drags me out of the room, guiding me backwards as I watch the crowd around the gurney prep for surgery. She finally gets me into an empty exam room before cupping my face between her hands and staring at me intently.

They are in the care of the best surgeon, the best pediatrician and the second best trauma doctor in this hospital. They have the most up to date equipment and procedures. Both have a common blood type. Twenty-five week premmies have a high survival rate. And everyone in this hospital is praying for them.

Amazing what you can read in a pair of eyes.

"I'll be okay. You should…" I try to dredge up the energy to yell at her to get back to work, desperately trying to gain some normalcy to get away from the concern on her face.

"I'll get back to work, Dr. Weaver. Someone will be by to check on you every now and then."

I sit in the chair, in the dark and wait, pathetically glad not to be waiting in chairs or the lounge with its too familiar features. After a few minutes the door opens and someone enters. It's too soon to be good news and if it's bad news I'll take each microsecond I can before hearing it.

"Kerry? It's Abby. I'm just going to sit here and wait with you. Okay? Be as quiet as a mouse." She sounds out of breath and I wonder who had the presence of mind to page her.

"No," I say and immediately there's a rustle of cloth.

"Okay, no problem. I'll get someone to check in on…"

"Wait. I mean, please stay but don't be quiet."

"Oh," she sits back down in the darkness. "Want to hear about Professor Addams latest theory on why women shouldn't be doctors?"

"Yeah, that would be great," I say and latch onto her voice like a crutch.

+++++

I become aware. I'm in the post op recovery room, looking down and unsure how I came to be here. I feel a presence beside me and know without looking that it's Abby. She enters my field of view, folding down a blanket and tucking a white sheet quickly around the figure before straightening the blanket again. I can feel the brush of warmed flannel over my hand and feel a surge of affection for this thoughtfulness.

"She's probably cold."

I smile absently. "It takes a lot."

There's a gentle bump against my side. "Yeah, she's pretty hot."

I can hear the humour in her voice and know she's trying to make me smile so I oblige. Not an extremely successful attempt, I know, but an attempt nonetheless.

"Dr. Finch needs to talk to you."

"I know. But I want to be here when she wakes up."

"Babcock said it would be at least half an hour. Go talk to Cleo so you can answer all the questions Kim is going to have. I'll wait here with Stretch just in case Babcock is wrong."

My analytical and logical mind seems to have booked out on vacation. But I nod at the suggestion, vaguely aware of Abby calling a nurse to escort me to Dr. Finch. As if I were totally incapable of finding Cleo's office by myself, an office that I've visited weekly for the last three months in a hospital I've worked in for over ten years.

Right now I'm not sure I could find the floor.

+++++

"When can I take them home?"

Cleo looks slightly startled. I suddenly realize that she's been talking at me for the last quarter hour but nothing seems to have retained. She sighs slightly. "I'd like to keep Kim for a couple of days. Gabriel for between six and eleven weeks."

"Is he okay?"

She sighs that slight sigh again and I realize that she's probably spent the last fifteen minutes explaining when I could take them home and Gabe's condition. But she just answers. "He's currently listed as critical but it's mainly a formality. He's stable and---"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"Is he okay?"

She sighs. Not the 'do I have to explain this again' sigh but the 'I am a doctor but I don't have all the answers' sigh. "Anything that we can test for has come back negative. He'll be monitored closely and his development followed. But I can't make any guarantees, Kerry, you know that so don't ask me to."

I duck my head down, passing my hand over my face. A brief second to regain my composure. I think.

"Cleo," I start but she cuts me off.

"Kerry, he's a perfectly formed and health baby and shows all the developmental signs of a fetus at 25 weeks of gestation. But he should be inside the womb still, not out here. We knew this was a possibility and we gave him the Betamethasone to encourage lung growth and it seems to have worked."

I nod.

"Look, why don't you head back so you're there when Kim wakes. Both of you get some rest and we can deal with a schedule for Gabriel's hospital stay tomorrow when you're both more alert. Okay?"

I nod, apparently all I can do at the moment.

+++++

"Kerry?"

"Abby, aren't you going home?"

"In a bit. Didn't want to leave without checking again."

"Well, you might as well come in."

She hesitates a bit before finally coming in, taking position beside me. "How is she?"

"Good. She was awake for a few minutes but drifted off again. She's still pretty doped up."

Abby smiles and twitches one corner of the sheet so that it is even straighter.

"I just came from the ICU. He's looking good."

I nod but can't speak. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me but suddenly the world is blurry and faint and then I feel arms around me as I begin to cry. Nonsense words in my hair tell me that it's okay, that he's safe, that she's safe, that I'm safe and that she's got me and the tears fall harder until I feel Kim's hand stir in mine.

"Hey."

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Joined us at last?" Abby asks, giving me a few extra seconds to compose myself.

"Making time with my girl, Short Stuff?"

"Some friend I'd be if I tried anything with you lying there unconscious."

"I was just sleeping a bit."

"Ah well, then. That's different, Stretch. You snooze you lose."

"Can I see him?"

Abby still has one arm around me, holding me steady as I stiffen so suddenly I fear falling. "You do know that he's tucked into ICU and you have a truly impressive incision across your abdomen?" Abby asks.

"I know. So, can I see him?"

"Kim…" I begin, trying to take control of the conversation. Fruitlessly.

"Kerry," she interrupts. "I need to see him."

Abby gives me a last hug before releasing me. "Listen, Kerry, how about you argue uselessly with Kim while I grab a set of wheels. Be back in five."

"Kim, this is a very bad idea," I say when she's gone. "You've just undergone surgery. You're still groggy from the meds. Your body has been through a lot and you shouldn't be getting out of bed. Ask any doctor in this hospital and they'll tell you that you're doing yourself and him no good by forcing this too early."

"Kerry."

"Yes," I say, knowing that I've lost this argument.

"Help me on with this damn robe or so help me God I'm going to show my naked ass to everyone on the floor as I drag this stupid IV pole down to the ICU."

I feel the tears coming again. "Kim, you don't understand…"

The hand holding mine tightens until I think bones will break. "Kerry, I have spent the last two months in bed being study buddy to a med student cramming for her OB exams. Trust me, I know what to expect. Thank you for trying to protect me but Ker, I gotta. Ask any doctor on my floor."

I nod and Abby returns with Malik and a chair. I vaguely wonder why an ER nurse is up in neonatal before it occurs to me that he's the spy. I suspect that there'll be a stream of ER and Psych personnel who just happen to have an errand on the floor. Without much ado Malik scoops Kim up, settling her into the chair effortlessly and straightens the blanket over her legs.

"Just give me a buzz down there when you want put back in bed, Dr. Legaspi," he says. "You scared us a little, you know."

"Sorry. Who won the pool?"

"No one. So Randi is gonna buy something for the baby with the money. Maybe one of those snugglie things so you can carry him and keep your hands free. That okay?" he asks, looking up to include me in the question.

"Sure, that's sweet of all of you," Kim says. "Thanks, Malik."

He nods and we follow him out, he to the elevator and I leading the way to ICU. Abby pushes the chair and Kim sits there, hands playing with the knot of her belt. Wordlessly we approach the observation area of the unit and look in.

The room is brightly lit. Monitors and emergency equipment line the walls. In the center is a Plexiglas isolette, its clear cover allowing easy view of its lone occupant. I distract myself by identifying the various machines and devices attached to his torso and limbs. Cardiorespiratory monitor, pulse oximeter, blood pressure monitor, temperature probe lying nearby, umbilical artery catheter and carbon dioxide monitor. The endotracheal tube has, thank God, been replaced by CPAP tubing into his nostrils. By far the most disturbing sight is the IV line into his scalp.

The only bright colour is the small blue band around his ankle.

"He's perfect."

I look down at Kim and see the wide-eyed wonder on her face. And then I look back, through the multiple panes of glass and look at him again, removing the wires and tubes and other paraphernalia, and see him for the first time. Her son. Our child. My Gabriel.

"Yes," I say. "He is."

And I know that everything will be all right.

+++++

"This is just a ploy to see me naked."

"You're in a hospital gown and scrub pants, Kim."

"Its open at the front Kerry."

"Well, if it were open at the back this wouldn't work," says the neonatal nurse who quickly plucks Gabriel from his isolette and settles him up against Kim's chest. She straightens the tubes and monitors and then closes the gown. "There."

"Is he okay?"

"Just fine, Doctor Legaspi. Just relax a bit."

I drag my stool up beside the rocking chair. Reaching out I pause but Kim just shakes her head in exasperation over my hesitancy so I continue, placing my hand on his shoulders. I can feel the body heat through the cotton, the rise and fall of his breathing. Shallower than I like but, still, steady.

"They use to do this in Kenya," I say. "In the hospitals that couldn't afford a lot of equipment. Then they found out that infant mortality rates were dropping in the smaller hospitals and the city hospitals started doing it too."

"Everything old is new again, you should know that, Doctor Weaver," the nurse says. "Now the father. Or other mother. Partner. You," she finally said, pointing at me. "You can do this too. Gabriel will likely respond to Doctor Legaspi better because he's use to listening to her but any warm body will do."

"Actually," Kim says, smiling as she rocks gently. "He should be use to listening to Kerry too. She sang to him all the time."

"How sweet," the nurse says. I shoot her a glower. "Your reputation is intact, Dr. Weaver. You eat babies, not serenade them. But if you'd like to I'll just leave you for a few minutes to do some of the reports and give you three some time."

We sit for a few moments and then Kim simply reaches out, cupping her hand behind my head and pulling me forward until my head rests beside Gabriel. "Sing," she commands.

I obey. "I've got money in my pocket, I like the color of my hair, I've got a friend who loves me, got a house, I've got a car. I've got a good mother and her voice is what keeps me here." I lose it then, voice unable to continue.

"That's a nice song."

My head rockets up causing both Gabriel and Kim to start. "How long have you been there?"

"Just a line or two," Abby says, grabbing another stool and sitting on Kim's other side. "How are you all doing?"

"Fine. But why do you look like the cat that ate the canary?"

"Ah, Stretch, that's why I'm here. I have a proposition for you and Kerry."

Kim's face goes blank for a three count before she bursts into laughter. Abby groans and buries her face into both hands.

"What?" I ask.

"Your wife has a gutter mind, Kerry," Abby says, finally raising her head. "Stop laughing, Kim."

"Sorry. Your proposition is?"

"How would you like a live in medical student?"

"We have a live in medical student," Kim tells her.

"Yeah, but how about one that is taking a semester off and will be staying at home doing a research project involving premature infants and home care?"

We stare at her.

"And one that just convinced Cleo that with three medical doctors--"

"Two and a half," Kim corrects her.

"Whatever. She agrees that three of us constitutes twenty-four hour medical care and, assuming he puts on weight, Gabriel can go home in four to six weeks instead of ten?"

We stare at her. "It'll put you behind," Kim finally says.

Abby shakes her head. "Not really more than a semester. And I can maybe make some of that up over the summer. Plus, it means I have to write a paper for my pedey prof so Gabriel might be somewhat famous."

We continue to stare.

"Or not," she says, reaching out hesitantly and laying her hand slightly beneath mine.

"Yes," we answer her.

 

**NOVEMBER**

I know they're laughing at me but I don't care. I've introduced Gabe to the front door, the hall, Abby's door, the kitchen, the living room and the staircase. We did a brief detour through our bedroom and bath before our final destination. It's the first day of my parental leave and I've brought my family home. And after basically living at the hospital for the last month the quiet and familiarity of the house is like a balm.

"And this is your room, Gabriel. This is your crib and this is Mommy's rocking chair that she'll share with you. This is your change table--"

"With five point safety belt and air bag," Abby comments from the doorway with Kim. They've both got the laughing down to indulgent smiles as they watch, Kim leaning back against the wall and Abby against the door jam.

"With a safety belt because babies roll. Don't they Gabriel?" He's sound asleep so I assume the positive. "And there's a toy chest for when you're older and I've got a desk and chair--"

"With a laptop and direct DSL connection," Kim adds. She's exaggerating about the laptop and it only made sense to wire his room at the same time as ours.

"I'm going to start some lunch if you two want to settle him in," Abby says. She leans further into the room, reaching up to kiss Kim's cheek. "It's good to have you home." She looks over to me. "All of you home," she adds before heading downstairs.

I carefully place Gabriel into the crib, covering him and adjusting the monitors. "You want to do this?" I ask suddenly when I'm about half done.

"No," she says softly. I glance at her and am taken back nearly four years when I walked into a kitchen and she offered me a bagel. The same soft smile and tentative look. She's scared, I realize. Scared and excited and mainly scared.

I tuck in Gabriel, placing the dreadful clown with the wind up nose beside the floppy puppy before I go to her. She opens her arms and I walk right into them.

"Scary?" I ask.

"Hell yes."

"We'll be okay."

"Better be. We out number him three to one."

"Think it will be enough?"

"Until he's two. Then we may need reinforcements."

"Want to eat?"

"No, I want to stay here for a bit. Everything's set up okay?"

I know she means the monitors and things. I nod against her collarbone.

"It'll be okay," I whisper. But she doesn't answer.

+++++

I hear the alarm, grab my crutch and fly for the steps. I'm vaguely aware of the coffee table tipping and the crash of the teacup. I'm half way there when I flatten against the wall to allow Abby past, following as quickly as I can. She's already begun resuscitation and he's too small for more than one person to work on him at a time. I grab the cordless phone, finger over the memory button that will dial 911, and wait.

She raises her head and Gabe screams in anger. The phone drops from my hand, and then the crutch and I slide down the wall to sit on the floor. Abby comes to sit beside me, Gabe still screaming into his tiny mask, leaning against me for mutual support. This is the fourth attack and although each is easier than the last the cumulative effect is taking its toll on us.

"I can't tell her," I say. "It kills her each time."

She nods although we both know that we have to tell Kim that again it happened. That again her child stopped breathing and that we might have lost him.

"I'm worried about her," Abby says.

I nod. Each alarm, each resuscitation, seems to drive a wedge between them. She's becoming afraid to love him too much, distancing herself in case. Afraid to leave the house in case something happens. Afraid to stay in the house in case something happens and she can't stop it.

"But we have to tell her," Abby continues.

"Maybe tonight, after dinner."

"Tell me what?" Kim asks from the doorway. But she already knows, looking at us collapsed on the floor with Gabe still meefing his discontent into the mask and the hiss of the ventilator.

"He's fine."

She hesitates and then comes to sit in front of us, legs crossed and elbows on knees. She shakes her head when Abby hesitantly offers her Gabe. I recognize the look on her face and it scares me.

"Kim…"

"No, Ker," she says, coolly and calmly, "I don't think I can do this."

"But…"

"Ker, when you lose something once sometimes you just can't risk losing it again."

How can I argue that one?

"Yes, you can," Abby says. She pauses as if marshalling her thoughts. "Gabriel is the second chance for all of us. He's Kerry chance to be the mother she never had. And he's our chance at the child that was never born. You can't cut yourself off from him because you're afraid your time together is short. You have to love him more in case it is."

They stare at each other, oblivious to me, sharing some past memory.

It's the first time I've ever been jealous of their relationship.

"Abby…"

"Kim. Take him," Abby says, handing Gabriel to her.

At first she holds him awkwardly, looking down at him, her hair a veil covering her face and then I notice that her shoulders are starting to shake. I start to move toward her, to comfort her, but Abby touches my knee and shakes her head. Instead I watch as Kim slowly curls into Gabriel, her body slowly turning until she's wrapped around him, lying on her side with the head resting on my thigh. I lace my fingers into her hair, scratching the scalp lightly as the tremours slowly ease. I glance over at Abby, sitting with her knees and arms drawn up protectively into her chest, her head buried in her arms.

"Hey," I say softly and she looks up, tries to smile and then just shakes her head. "You all right?"

"Just reliving some moments and wondering if I made the right choice."

It suddenly clicks in generally and I know that I will never ask and doubt she'll ever volunteer details. But I nod. "And?"

"It boils down to the right choice for the time. But I'm glad I'm here to share this. Thank you."

I realize that both Kim and Gabe have fallen asleep and I feel a wash of love and tenderness that I know is showing naked on my face. I smooth Kim's hair a little before looking back up at Abby.

And I see that look, mirrored on her face as she looks at me. A delayed reaction from her looking at Kim and Gabe. It slowly shifts and she smiles and we sit, in the growing darkness until they awake.

 

**DECEMBER**

There's been something niggling on the tip of my memory all day. Something of forgotten significance that keeps inching forward. I look around the decorated living room as Gabe fusses irritably, unwilling to fall asleep, but no clues present themselves.

Until I hear Abby coming up the stairs two at a time and I remember.

A year ago today. It was a year ago today I walked downstairs and finally saw the empty couch that meant that she'd stopped bothering to lie to me, that she was so far gone that she wasn't going to even give me the crumb of doubt that meant I could keep my pride.

That was the moment I realized that I was so tied to Kim that not fear, not even my pride could force me to run away from her. That there was nothing she could do that would cause me to be the one to leave.

I don't know how long I stood there. I don't know how long ago I'd have stood there if Abby hadn't come crashing up the steps looking like fury personified. We had stood there, staring at each other, and then she'd just shaken her head once before heading out.

I had turned and headed out the back door. I'd gone to work and around ten I'd phoned home, claiming to have been paged early. I had told her how I'd snuck out without going into the living room to say goodbye and left through the back door and could she check it because I couldn't remember locking it.

And because I'd left it unlocked she believed me.

Love makes you do the damnedest things.

I pull myself in to the present to smile at Abby who's regarding me with a puzzled look on her face.

"I said, can I get you two anything?"

"Just answer a question."

"If I can."

"How do you do it?"

Abby turns from the kitchen, detouring to where I'm sitting in the living room and Gabe coos at her in recognition. "Do what?"

"Get him to sleep," I ask, very aware of the frustration in my voice.

"Do the checklist. Is he dry, fed, warm, sleepy?"

"Yes." I could feel the smile fighting the frustration.

"Then there are two possibilities. The first is that he's really demon spawn whose sole purpose is to turn you into a sleep deprived, homicidal shrew who will start talking to the cat."

"We don't have a cat."

"In that case it's number two. He's just a baby who doesn't know he's tired. Try this."

So saying she reaches down and stokes his nose from his nearly nonexistent eyebrows to the tip. His eyes follow and the lids flutter closed briefly. She repeats the stroke. Gabe tries to keep up but each time his eyelids stay closed a little longer until they no longer open and his breathing settles into a sleeping pattern.

"This is your secret?" I whisper.

"Yeah," she replies in her normal voice, her finger still tracing the line of Gabe's nose. "It's kinda sick, really, because they think you're going to poke them in the eye. Maggie use to do it with my brother."

"And it works?"

"Yeah, well, usually. Next step is a couple of shots of rye in the formula." I look up at her sharply. "I'm joking," she adds after a few seconds.

"I knew that."

"It curdles the milk."

"Right," I say.

"Yeah, well, my sense of humour is a bit off. Yet another reason its good I don't have kids."

I'm about to give the automatic response but stop myself. I'm apparently silent long enough to cause Abby to look up at me.

I smile and hand her Gabe. "You are a great mother, Abby."

She smiles and then I watch it die as my meaning sinks in. She ducks her head but not before I catch the glint of tears.

"Ah…"

"Just don't get the baby soggy."

"Yeah. Kerry?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Its just the truth. Can you look after Gabe for a while, I need to give something to Kim."

I find her in the laundry alcove, folding tiny sleepers.

"I have something for you," I say, reaching into my pocket.

"I thought we agreed…"

"No, it's not a Christmas present," I say, handing her the once white and now ragged grey envelope.

"Tooth x-rays?" she asks and I can see the resemblance. She pinches it open and the ring slides out and onto her palm.

"Kerry?" she asks, confused as she reads the inscription. "Did you have trouble explaining why you wanted 2001 on it?"

"Uhh, not really. I got it made then."

She glances up from the ring. "And it took you nearly four years to give it to me?"

"Well, yes. You remember the day you moved in and I was a bit late coming home? I picked it up then."

"So why didn't you give it to me then?"

"Somebody ravished me before I could get in the door and then dragged me to bed for about two days."

"Oh," she says, grinning, "imagine that."

"And then I thought I'd give it to you to mark our first month and then year and then you gave me this ring and I didn't want to seem like I was trying to match you and keep score and then I thought, um, you know, give it when, I wasn't sure, but the baby and then…"

"Hey, it's okay," she whispers, brushing at my cheeks and I realize that I'm crying.

"And then there was Gabe and today I just realized that I could spend the rest of my life waiting for the right time to give you this. Waiting for the perfect moment."

"And this is it?"

"Hardly. I mean, no special dinner and I forgot the flowers and if I start to make slow, romantic love with you Gabe's going to scream or the rinse cycle bell will go off or I'll get paged or something will happen."

"I see."

"And we have a wonderful life but I know that sometimes I irate the hell out of you and you claim I snore and--"

"I get the idea, Kerry."

"Ah, yeah, sorry."

"So this isn't about the perfect time?"

"No. This is about you being able to look down and see a physical sign of my commitment to you and our family."

"Four years later."

"Better late, Legaspi," I say and she hugs me tight.

 

**JANUARY**

The house is dark when I get home save for the dull blue glow of the TV set. For some reason I had thought returning to work with the evening shift would be somehow less stressful and, except for the midnight drive home in a blizzard, I expect it would be. I shed my coat and bags and head for the living room, eject and put away the DVD but leave on the TV for the muted illumination it provides. Clearing away the popcorn bowl I sit down on the coffee table and look at the three of them.

Abby is squished into one corner of the couch, legs in a V and her body providing a backrest for Kim. Gabe is lying, tummy to tummy, on Kim with a small milk drool in one corner of his mouth. He is supported and held firmly by Abby and Kim's linked hands resting across his back.

All three are snoring.

I really should wake them. Gabe and breastfeeding are not yet to the duck and water stage with the result of numerous small feedings. He'll want a snack soon, Kim is going to have a terrible kink in her neck and it can't be comfortable for Abby to have all that weight on her. But for now I just sit and watch them and muse.

I wonder if there was some alternate reality where Kim and Abby were together and I was some physician equivalent of Princess Taffeta. Or, to be equitable, a reality were Abby and I were together and Kim in some other city, chased away by Romano. Doubtless the endless repeats of Star Trek that Kim makes me watch are affecting me.

Gabe stirs and, before he can start to wake Kim or Abby, I have him tucked securely into my good side in a football hold. He makes little burble noises as I talk to him, describing my day and the various patients I had. He blows some bubbles around his bottle as he obviously agrees with one of my more brilliant diagnoses. He burps as I describe the ride home and blinks sleepily at me as we return to the living room.

"So, what do you think?" I ask him quietly, drawing the line down the bridge of his nose.

He blinks twice slowly and fails to open his eyes after the third.

"I think so too," I tell him as I set him gently on the recliner with a pillow in case he rolls over before turning my attention to the couch. While we were gone they'd shifted in their sleep so that they were laying side by side, Abby with one arm around Kim's waist. I veto waking them, content to adjust Kim's nursing bra before I cover them with a quilt. I toss her t-shirt in the general vicinity of the stairs, too tired now to make the trip to the laundry hamper, and return to the recliner to make a nest with another quilt for Gabe and myself.

I half awake after what feels like a couple of hours as I feel Gabe being taken from me and another quilt being spread over me.

"Ker?"

"Yeah, Kim?"

"Do we need to talk?"

"About anything other than you two letting Gabe watch Tomb Raider?"

"Hm-mmm. I was thinking more along the lines of being half naked in another woman's arms."

"Nope."

"Okay, go back to sleep."

+++++

I should have come sooner. Every time I come here I think that I should have come sooner, more often. There was a time that I couldn't visit at all but now the feeling of peace has returned.

"Mom, Dad, this is Gabe."

The stone is very simple with just their names and a set of dates. Exactly how they wanted it. Below it is another stone with a single word and date.

"I wish you could have met them, Gabe. They would have liked you and your mom. They wouldn't have understood it all but they would have tried to."

I place the three sets of flowers on the grave and Gabe laughs, trying to catch the bright colours against the snow.

"Let's go home. Mommy and Abby will be there soon."

The kitchen is warm and inviting. Kim is at the counter slicing carrots into thin coins while Abby sits at the island stirring the Yorkshire pudding. A homey scene. Except for the tension across Kim's back.

"Hi, sorry we're late. We stopped by the…"

"I know."

My words freeze. Abby looks at me and then at Kim. I sigh and try again.

"Maybe next time you'd like to…"

"No." She pauses and then turns to face me for the first time since I arrived. "No, Kerry, I don't."

"Okay," I say, trying very hard to keep any trace of hurt or judgment from my tone. Unsuccessfully from the look on Kim's face. "I just…"

"It's okay. Let me get Gabe fed and changed," she says, interrupting for the third time. She scoops him from me and disappears.

"Shit," I say when I'm sure they're out of earshot.

"That was interesting. Is that how you two fight?"

I stare at Abby. "That was a fight?"

"Nope. But in all the years I've lived here that was the closest I've seen. I just assumed you disagreed when I wasn't around. Partner solidarity and all."

"Oh. No, that's our method of dealing with a disagreement. My presenting my point and Kim refusing to listen. Or the other way around. We don't really fight."

"You don't?" she asks and I can hear the doubt in her voice. I don't blame her.

"We argue about the little things that don't really matter. And yeah, we do that in private usually." I pause trying to verbalize something that has never been verbalized. "But the important things we just sort of each draw our lines in the sand and never cross them."

"And I thought I was screwed up," Abby mutters so softly I barely hear her. "And Stretch thinks this is healthy?"

I laugh, "God, no. But we fought twice our first time around and it was," I pause again caught between choosing an accurate phrase and a melodramatic one and realizing that there was only one word. "Destroying. We're both gun shy of a repeat. It's a skill we don't have and maybe if we did…" I trail off. Maybe if we did that year of chaos, loosing the baby and the emotional firestorm that followed, would have resolved faster. Or maybe it would have sparked a fight that would have finished us. I muse about the paths we could have taken.

"Where were you?" Abby finally asks.

"Cemetery."

"Ah," she says. "She doesn't want to visit the grave?"

"No," I say, running my free hand through my hair in frustration. "I mean, I didn't want to but I knew I should and now it's a comfort. But she's never been."

"Must be hard for her sometimes," Abby says slowly, stirring the mix. "I mean, if everything had gone okay Gabe likely wouldn't have been born."

I feel like an idiot. "Abby, I'll be right back."

I find them in Gabe's room, rocking slowly in the large chair and I'm reminded of a Madonna and child and I wish that I had the artistic ability to capture them like this. I watch, unseen, committing it to memory instead.

"Hey."

She looks up suddenly, trying to wipe the tears away.

"I don't know why I'm crying."

I kneel awkwardly beside her. "Because it's hard to feel happy and sad at the same time."

She nods and the tears start again. "I'm sorry, Ker. I tried so hard. I wanted her so much for you and for me and for us. And then I failed and Gabe is so beautiful and so fragile and I'm so scared and I couldn't do it."

The words that fail me whenever I have to talk to the families fail me now. So I simply reach out and take them both into my arms as best I can.

"Kim?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you," I say, knowing that it doesn't change anything and changes everything.

"I can't go there. Not yet."

"I know. You never have to go. I won't ask again."

"Maybe someday," she offers and I accept that peace offering and give one in return.

"It's okay. You don't have to," I repeat. I replay her words in my head. "Kim, you know it wasn't your fault. None of it was. It just happened."

"What if something had happened to Gabe? After I had trouble the first time? We knew the risk and I'd have just created life to kill it."

I kick myself mentally. "Should you, umm, maybe, if you want to, I mean…"

"I'm still seeing Dr. Grein. Nothing regular but if I need to."

"Oh."

"I didn't tell you because I knew if you thought I wasn't handling it that you'd start kicking yourself. And I am handling it, Kerry."

"We're a fine pair."

She grips my chin firmly, staring at me intently. "Yes, Kerry, we are."

I stare back for a time immeasurable before Gabe stirs. "How's Abby?" Kim asks.

"Abby's fine but the roast beef with all the trimmings just isn't happening tonight," Abby informs from the doorway. She's holding our wicker picnic basket and cluster of wine glasses in her other hand.

"We still can," I say, standing with the help of the rocker.

"Well," Abby says, setting the basket down by Kim's feet and putting the wine glasses on the change table. "The way I see it why have a formal sit down meal when we can have a picnic instead?"

"But…"

"It's just whatever finger food we had in the fridge and a bottle of carbonated cider. C'mon, whadya say?"

We say yes and an hour later sees Kim trying to teach Gabe how to roll over, much to our amusement. Abby is calling out suggestions and encouragement while I wield the video camera. He finally manages it, a look of shock on his face as he lies on his back trying to understand how the world came to be 180 degrees off.

I know the feeling.

"What's next?" Kim demands eagerly.

"Rolling from back to tummy. Sitting up. Scooting. Dragging. Crawling. Pulling himself up with furniture. Walking with assistance. Walking alone. Running. Stairs. Car keys," Abby recites.

Kim looks terrified at the last one but I'm fairly sure I lost it at walking.

"You know, you make the decision and you know it's a lifetime kind of thing but sometimes it just hits you anew exactly what a lifetime is," Kim says slowly.

"Any regrets?" I tease before I can censor the words. But she doesn't seem to connect them to before.

She ruffles his peach fuzz hair, a distant smile on her face. "No. There's not one thing in my life I regret or would change," she says, looking up. At Abby.

"Because they bring you here?" Abby asks.

"Because they bring us," and she sweeps her hand in a circle to include all four of us, "here."

A sudden squawk of surprise from Gabe refocuses our attention to the floor where he now lays on his tummy.

"Oh, God. Hide the car keys."

 

**FEBRUARY**

Its not that we're being quiet, or noisy, but neither notices us as we enter the room and pause to watch them. Doubtless Abby wasn't expecting us back so early.

Kim once dated an expatriate Canadian, an experience that left her with a taste for imported beer, a tendency to mispronounce 'project' and a bunch of CDs by artists I'd never heard of. One of which, an acoustic group, was now playing.

"You realize that she's subjecting our child to country music?" Kim whispers in my ear in mock horror, despite the fact that I know its one of her favourite albums.

"It's not country, they just have the word cowboy in their name," I reply before moving forward. Abby becomes aware and stops, a lightly embarrassed smile at being caught dancing.

"May I cut in?" I ask, taking the drowsy Gabe.

"You stole my partner," she says.

"That's okay, you can have mine," I reply lightly.

"Hey!" they both object but I ignore them as I close my eyes and kiss the top of Gabe's head, breathing in the smell of baby shampoo and oil. The objections are obviously for form because, when I open my eyes again, they are dancing, Kim holding Abby at proper Catholic school distance.

Kim loves to dance. Which is good because she is an excellent dancer, a fact she blames on her mother enrolling her in ballroom dancing when she reached the coltish teenage years. Before Kim got pregnant the first time we'd occasionally go places with the gang so that Kim could visit and dance and I could get closer to her friends. It was a habit we had drifted from and one that I resolved to start again.

I wonder which I envy more, Abby for being able to dance so easily with Kim or Kim for dancing so gracefully. Until Gabe stirs and looks up at me and smiles and I thank every god mankind ever prayed to that I'm Kerry Weaver and holding this miracle.

The song ends and another starts, a cover of Blue Moon, and I can see Kim pull Abby closer. I indicate with a nod of my head toward the kitchen that I'm grabbing a bottle and Kim nods understanding before her eyes shut to the music. I warm the bottle and he drinks it sleepily as we sit on the stair steps watching them dance.

The song ends and another starts. Kim catches my eye and I make the sign for bed. It was a delightful surprise when I found out she knew American sign.

"Me?" she sign queries.

"Stay. Enjoy. Beautiful," I reply.

She makes her sign for me, the letter K flowing into the sign for 'care'. Then a letter G with the sign for 'angel' that is her sign for Gabe. At least, as best she can while dancing. Then the short form for 'I love you'.

I tuck Gabriel into his crib, wind the clown's nose and then ready myself for bed. From downstairs I can faintly hear the sound of music and in my mind's eye I watch them dance as I fall asleep.

It's late when she comes to bed. I feel myself snuggling against her, my hands finding familiar resting spots.

"Sleepy?" I ask.

"No," she replies, tone distracted. My hands move to other, less restful yet still familiar spots but she stills them with her own.

"Ker," she starts but I've already figured it out. My hands return to their original positions, pulling her closer.

"It's okay. You want to talk?"

"Yes. But not yet. I'm not sure what…" she trails off, voice still distracted. Like a child working through a math problem.

"Kim?"

"Probably just baby brain. Hormones."

"Or you don't want to make love with me while your head is full of Abby?"

She freezes against me and then begins to tremble. "Oh god."

I kiss the back of her neck and shoulders until she stills. "It's okay," I whisper, "fantasy is a healthy part of any physical relationship and we shouldn't be afraid of it or think that it implies unfaithfulness or lack of desire in each other. Indeed, it can keep a couple's sex life exciting and fresh."

She's giggling by the time I reach the word 'physical' and has twisted around to face me by the word 'desire'.

"This is different," she says and I nod, both of us slowly growing serious.

"I know."

"This is kinda scary."

"I know." And I do. This isn't some crush on an actress or glimpse of a stranger. This is Abby who, although Kim doesn't acknowledge it even to herself, holds some portion of Kim's past and heart.

Because I handed them to her.

"Be patient?" she asks.

"Always."

 

**MARCH**

"Your son," announces a sleepy voice from the doorway of the bedroom "is not content with latex tonight. Or he just wants some cuddles and is mad at me."

I motion them over and Abby hands me Gabe before sitting on the edge of the bed with a sigh. I hold him as Kim prepares and then helps her adjust pillows and such and watch for a few seconds as he suckles. Abby has been pulling extra Gabe shifts, as she pulls it, to help prepare for her return to work and school next month.

"Okay. He's changed and did eat about three ounces so just top him up and tuck him in the bassinette," Abby says. Her upper body moves to stand up but her lower body remains.

"Stay," I suggest, "you're tired, there's room and none of us bite."

"Kerry bites, I nip, Gabe gums," Kim corrects groggily, trusting in the fact that she's holding the baby to protect her from the swat she deserves.

"Okay, just for a few minutes."

I awake later and adjust the comforter so that Abby's covered. Gabe is sleeping on Kim's stomach and I have to get creative with my robe to make sure they're covered warmly. I fall back asleep, surround by warmth.

 

**APRIL**

"No, it's no problem so come on. There's always coffee somewhere in the house."

I look up from trying to shove pabulum into Gabriel's closed mouth to see who Abby is talking to.

"Dr. Lockhart, do y'all have a camera handy?"

"Babababababababa!"

"Hey, my little man. You having supper?"

"Hello Sawyer. What brings you here?" I ask as Abby passes, brushing my shoulder with her hand and kissing the top of Gabe's head. The only visible body part pabulum free.

"Dr. Lockhart…"

"Abby," Abby corrects as she gets two mugs from the cupboard and gives the coffee thermos a shake.

"…Abby's head and the lounge door met with a resounding thunk."

"You okay?" I ask Abby sharply.

"Yes, dear," she replies with an exaggerated sigh. "No sign of concussion and everyone overreacted and I humoured them."

"I offered to drive Abby home just in case. Jo's dropping off the rig and'll pick me up," Sawyer added, taking the mug. "May I?"

I nod and she approaches Gabriel, bending slightly to look him in the face. He stares back, doubtless fascinated by the new person as well as all the buttons, badges and paraphernalia that makes up Sawyer's EMT uniform.

"And how did you get drafted?"

"Well, as I was the one opening the door at the time I felt morally obligated. And," she added, grinning up at Abby, "as Abby slept the whole way here I figure we were right."

"She's worse than Gabriel," I say. "Drive five blocks and she falls asleep."

"Does he snore? She has this…"

"Hey, in the room!"

We ignore her. "Did you find the place okay?"

"Well, been here before so yeah," Sawyer answered, playing peekaboo with a giggling Gabe.

"When," I ask curiously.

And suddenly know when both Sawyer and Abby freeze.

"Oh," I say. "Then."

"Yeah." There is an awkward silence before she speaks again. "I am so sorry."

I broke policy and read the charts. There was nothing anyone could have done by the time Abby got home and the EMT arrived except save Kim. But I doubt that Sawyer sees it that way because, in her place, I know I wouldn't. "It harder when it's someone you know."

"Yeap," Sawyer said. "Little guy is stubborn."

I look at the mass of pabulum on his face, chair, bib, floor, spoon, me and the singular lack of pabulum in his mouth. "He does prefer his bottle or mom."

Sawyer opened her mouth to speak, hesitated and then shook her head. "Too easy a line, Doctor Weaver."

"Fine, you feed him. Abby, let me see your head."

Sighing she brushes up her bangs so that I can see the large goose egg slowly starting to bruise. I start through the concussion checklist.

"You know, Sawyer did this. Then Jo. Then John. Then Foster. Then Luka. Then each of the medical students. I'm fine."

"Why are you fine? What happened?" Kim asks as she enters the room.

Abby rolls her eyes as Kim sets down the grocery bags, kisses the top of Gabe's head and heads to Abby.

"Babababababababa!"

"If you all take turns coming into the room I think I can fork this in when he says your names," Sawyer comments.

I smile and look to see Kim and Abby's reactions. Abby has again exposed the bump and Kim is tracing it with her fingers tips.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Just a bump. And my head no less. Nothing important."

"That's my line, Short Stuff."

From the corner of my eye I can see Sawyer watching them and suddenly I see them from her eyes. Their innocent actions have a sense of intimacy and when Kim instructs Abby to track her finger Abby merely grabs hold of it and pulls it down and holds Kim's gaze for several moments before speaking.

"I'm fine, Stretch."

"You sure, Abs?"

Strange. Usually they hide the fact that they're lovers better.

The thought startles me and I can't decide if its because it's the truth or the fact it took me so long to acknowledge or because I consider it still in present tense.

Why can't I have these ephimaies when I'm alone? Or at least when I don't have a guest. I wonder how to deal with Sawyer. There's a spade in the garage and the back yard is big enough to…

"You want to stay for supper, Sawyer?"

Kim and Abby look pole axed and Sawyer looks amused.

"Jo's picking me up."

"She's welcome as well."

A secret only has power over you if you keep it a secret. And I've wasted too much of my life juggling secrets and lies.

Sawyer looks at me, hesitating. "You don't owe…"

"I know that," I say firmly.

"Then, that'd be nice."

+++++

Three hours later Sawyer and Kim have put a serious dent in the "beer cellar", Abby and Jo are talking in fast low voices over coffee and strudel and I'm trying hard to determine if it would be rude to drop off to sleep with guests in the room. Babies have dispensation and Gabe is sprawled on a blanket, a chew toy clenched tightly in his fist. Now he's sleeping when last night he was going for the record.

"Tee, we need to go."

"But Kim said we could watch Tomb Raider."

"We have it at home."

"But this is the DVD with a commentary track--."

"Tee…"

"And surround sound and a 59" screen."

I knew the 59" screen was a mistake.

"Tee…"

"And popcorn," Sawyer added, with a flourish usually reserved for showing the final card in a poker game.

Jo nodded and then merely grinned. "Well, that covers during the movie."

"During?" Clearly the beer hadn't impaired Sawyer's ability to catch the emphasized word. "Okay, during is covered. So what…?"

"After."

"Ohhhhhh," Sawyer said, turning almost in slow motion. "Kim, thank you very much but we have to go. Maybe a rain check or we can return the hospitality with food not nearly as nice and our 19" old and fuzzy TV with the tinny speakers."

Kim frowns, looking at our system, at Jo holding Tee's EMT parka and finally at Sawyer's blushing face. Its really cute how slow she is sometimes.

"Okay, another time," Kim says.

I rouse enough to see them to the door and figuratively crawl up the stairs and into bed. Through the open bedroom door I watch Kim and Abby as they leave the nursery, pausing at our door to say goodnight. Watch as Kim carefully brushes the bangs away to kiss the purpling bruise. See the wistful smile that Kim misses as Abby heads down the stairs.

"Sawyer and Jo are a couple," Kim informs me when she climbs into bed a few minutes later. I push myself backward into her.

"Kim," I say sleepily. "You gaydar is so seriously out of whack that I'm surprised you never tried to date a goose."

She works her way through that and finally swats my stomach. "It's not that bad," she says in protest. "Besides, I don't think it's a gay thing. I mean, anyone could see the little touches and looks."

I mentally shake my head, my physical one is tucked under her chin and is very comfortable. "Abby had to explain why they didn't stay, didn't she?"

I get another swat. "I may be slow but I eventually figure it out."

"So you're saying if you see those little looks and touches, eventually you'll figure it out. And your psych training gives you an edge, probably."

"Yeah."

"God, you're so cute," I whisper softly as her arms tighten and I fall asleep.

 

**MAY**

I am contemplating which form of torture to use and decide that making them sit in the living room for fifteen minutes will discourage even the most devoted of Avon sales women.

"Randi. Foster. What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, Dr. Weaver," Randi says, slight grin. A particularly loud wail comes drifting from the living room.

"We're here to rescue you," adds Foster, arms full of brown paper sacks.

"Aren't you a little short to be a storm trooper?" Kim asks, appearing behind me. Another wail and I can hear Abby starting in on the Bananas in Pajama's theme song. Again.

"Nah, he's average. Not small," Randi assures her, brushing by and into the house.

"Please, if there is a God, have them struck deaf thirty seconds ago," Foster says.

"Foster, I'm too tired to tease you. Come on in," Kim says and I hold the door open and then follow them into the living room. Randi has already stolen Gabe and Abby is stretched spread eagle on the carpet. Kim makes vague motions towards various pieces of furniture before collapsing into her corner of the couch.

Miraculously Gabe falls silent, distracted by Randi's necklace. He reaches out, grabs a leather medallion and begins gumming it happily.

"So, why are you here?" asks Abby from the floor.

"Kerry's been a little--"

"Bitchy."

"--Irritable at work and Abby has been--

"Bitchy."

"--Not her usual cheerful self and so we thought--"

"Foster's idea. I'm just along for the big TV."

"--apparently, I alone thought that what you all need is a night out. Child and tooth free."

We stare at him.

"We'll baby sit. We brought everything we need and we'll be fine."

"Don't worry. I've babysat lots of kids. Only lost three."

We stare at her.

"For about twenty minutes. Hide and seek. It was a joke for God's sake. You three need to get out."

"Can't I just sleep?" asked Abby plaintively from the floor, B1 still clutched in her one hand and B2 in the other.

"Nope," Foster said. "Doctor's orders. Go play. You'll feel better and Gabe is fine. See, quiet as a lamb."

And, being Kim's son, Gabriel Kerrison Legaspi spat out the leather necklace and let loose a roar of frustration and anger.

"We are so gone," Kim said.

+++++

Having assured us that they can handle four hours we head downtown. Supper at a new Thai place Abby heard about in school, coffee and desert at a bookstore before they drag me out from the stacks and then Kim's favourite bar for "Trashy Euro-Dance Night."

"Déjà vu."

"Christie," I say in surprise. "Have a seat. Kim didn't say you were back in town."

She hesitates and then sits. "Thanks. I got in last week. And she doesn't know yet because I haven't told her."

I wait.

"Kim and I haven't talked," she said, emphasizing the word talked, "since she ummm…."

"We lost the baby."

"Yeah. And I ran away."

She looks so patently miserable. "We all did. But we all came back."

"Well, you didn't go into exile for eighteen months. And neither did the brunette I see."

"Abby? No."

There's a pause and then a slow nod. "Thanks for not adding that this Abby was a good friend and let me infer I wasn't."

"Christie, she'll be glad to see you."

"I hope so."

She looks pensive and sad and I take pity on her. "Back to stay?"

She grins, blushes and looks anywhere but me. "Sort of. Maybe. Depends."

"On?"

"On whether Kshana really can't live without me."

"Hey," I say and wait for her to look at me. "Congratulations. How long?"

"I measure from a year last October. And it's all that brunette's fault."

"Okay? How?"

"Your Abby called and when Kshana indicated the call could wait I told her that Kim was more important than someone whose name I wouldn't remember in two weeks. Not my most diplomatic moment."

I contain it for a few moments and then lose it.

"Oh shut up."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Anyway, after the door stopped rattling I realized I'd been spending the last ten years of my life waiting for Kim to come to her senses and get back together. And that I'd just chased away yet another chance."

"And so you and Kshana got back together?"

"Took about six months of groveling and maxing out the credit cards at the florists, but yeah, she finally agreed to talk to me. And after that it was just a matter of charm," I laugh and she smiles, "and more groveling but she says we've been together six months so I guess I've finally got it right. Or at least now I'm on the same cricket pitch."

"I can't believe you said that."

"Yeah, I got a list of sayings to freak people out with."

"And now?"

She shrugs. "I'll tell you in three months when I put in for another stint in London. Because seven days have proven that I can't live without her. Oh God, here she comes."

They're approaching the table and I watch Kim falter slightly when she spots Christie. Abby half turns and obviously asks a question before turning sharply back to the table. They continue to the table, Kim's hand light on the small of Abby's back until she's seated and Kim takes her own chair between Abby and I.

"You're back."

"Yeah."

"Long?"

"About a week."

"You didn't mention anything in your last email."

Abby and I are watching as if it were tennis match and we watch as the ball spins toward the foul line.

"I was unsure of my welcome."  There's a slight pause before Christies continues.  "Scared."

Kim is silent as the rest of us hold our breath.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow for lunch? Get to know your honourary nephew."

"I'd like that."

"Good. So, tell me everything you didn't write me about."

 

**JUNE**

Twenty seconds slower and I would have seen the tractor-trailer land in front of me instead of seeing it all through my rear view mirror. A few seconds and perhaps I wouldn't have seen anything. Simply been, as Foster once colourfully phrased it, squished like a bug.

Kind of sets your priorities straight.

I see death every day at work but that has never made me face it before. I mean, I'm the doctor with a whole different set of priorities and outlook. They're the ones grasping at their immorality. They die slowly and they die quickly but most of the time there's a pause. A chance for goodbyes and a chance for last minutes.

Those people had no pause, no chance.

The only world I can imagine without Kim is one where she's dead. Or I'm dead. It sounds morbid but true. I toy, like picking at a scar, with the idea. Me dead. Her dead. She would survive. I would survive.

Us dead.

Gabe would be alone.

I reach for the phone and call my lawyer.

 

**JULY**

"I love watching you dance," I say as I watch her change into her night clothes. The rebonding with Christie has not been without a few bumps in the road but it is progressing with equal parts socializing in group environments and one on one conversations. Or so Dr. Legaspi says.

"It doesn't bother you?" she asks, like she always asks. It's curious that she needs this reassurance.

"Of course not. Or rather, it's like what Abby said about us having wine with dinner. It bothers me but not as much as the idea of your not dancing. I wish I could dance with you but I can't for more than one or two slow ones. And watching you is so…" I pause looking for the words.

"Amusing? Painful? Silly?" she prompts. Earning a swat.

"No. Beautiful. Like most things about you."

"Ah. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I must remember to thank your mother for making you take those lessons."

"Best not to mention that. I think she had an ulterior motive and it backfired."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, umm, you know, I was sort of figuring things out about me and boys or to be more accurate girls around then. I think she thought putting me in close proximity with a bunch of boys might steer me, umm, straight so to say."

A chuckle escapes. "I take it that it didn't work?"

"That's putting it mildly. Ballroom dancing wasn't exactly considered a macho thing to do. I think we outnumbered the males about five to one. If I had minor doubts before the classes they were screaming terrified fears after an hour of dancing with Jenny Travis."

"Poor mom."

"Poor Kim! A fifteen-year-old bundle of hormones tortured for an hour every Saturday morning touching untouchable temptation. So on the third week I signed up for afternoon basketball at the Y figuring I could burn off some energy and make use of their immensely cold showers."

"Did that help?"

"For one week. Until I casually mentioned it in dance class and Jenny decided that basketball sounded like fun."

Now I laugh. "You sure that she wasn't chasing you?"

"Oh, she was but I didn't figure it out until she and the head cheerleader showed up at our tenth high school reunion." She turns suddenly, flipping me over so that she can sprawl across me, running her hands up my arms. "I spent my seventeenth birthday with her, we borrowed my dad's car and went downtown and spent the day together shopping and at the movies and on the way home I honest to God ran out of gas and she teased me about it until I was beet red and couldn't form whole sentences. But part of me was still hiding behind the normal tag and denial and so nothing happened."

"Until college and Christie."

"Until college and Christie," she confirms. "You know, until about four years ago, until you, I think that was my best day ever, my birthday with her and I never knew why. But it was because I was seventeen and in love and had my whole life ahead of me."

I'm vaguely jealous of this seventeen-year-old ghost. "Please tell me she's dumpy and miserable and lives alone with sixty cats and scares the neighbourhood kids."

"Afraid not. She and Pam run a very successful mail order business. They have three kids and are terribly happy. She's president of the local PTA, PFLAG and treasurer of two soccer leagues."

"So much for cosmic balance."

"But since we got together, Kerry, each one of those days has been better than my birthday. Because I'm with you and now Gabe and Abby and I'm in love and have my whole life ahead of me."

"That is so sappy," I say. And it is but it still makes me feel like a million dollars.

 

**AUGUST**

She stares at the papers. Leafing through them briefly as I explain what they mean. Kim is watching, leaning against the counter and hiding her face behind her coffee mug. Cowardly and not very reassuring. Kim had listened and given a qualified agreement. Agreeing in principle but telling me that there were likely some things I hadn't thought through. And, judging by Abby's face, I was about to find some of them out.

"Kerry, are you two asking me to marry you?"

"No," I say in surprise.

"Yes," Kim says.

She laughs, looking from the calm Kim to the now flustered me. Needless to say, Kim answers first.

"Effectively, yes. The legal papers for Gabe's custody as well as becoming a joint beneficiary are essentially the same as what Kerry and I signed when we" air quotes "married."

"But we're not suggesting… I mean, that is to say that…" I blurt out, knowing that Abby can probably tell what I am not saying by my burning blush.

"Why not?" she asks.

Doubtless I look like a goldfish. Red fish.

"You think I never noticed?" Abby asks as she stands and approaches me. She reaches out and runs her index finger down the ridge of my nose and, just like Gabe, my eyes close and then I feel her breath on my face.

I'm not too surprised when she kisses me.

I am surprised that, when she begins to pull back that something holds her to me.

I'm shocked to find that it's my hand cupping the back of her neck lightly. I release her and she pulls away.

"Did you think I could care for her without caring for you?" she whispers to me before taking a step back and looking towards Kim. "You two need to talk. I'm taking Gabe for his walk. We'll be back in an hour or so."

And they're gone.

"You okay?" Kim asks, setting a cup of tea down in front of me.

"Why do women keep doing that to me? I mean just, boom, kiss."

"Personally I think it's to see the slightly stunned look on your face. It's cute. Now, answer the question."

"Well, my entire world just did a left turn at Albuquerque. Other than that I'm just peachy."

"So what exactly has you freaked out?"

I consider it. "Mainly the fact that I'm not freaked out."

"Could just be shock. The calm an illusion."

"Could be. We'd better discuss this before it ends and I get incoherent. You don't seem upset or surprised."

"Ah, well, Abby and I had a conversation before."

"I see," I lie. "What conversation is that?"

"Basically an 'I acknowledge that I'm very attracted and would like to take it further but it's a really a not good idea' conversation."

"Why do I never have conversations like that?"

"You are now, babe. Or rather we're having a conversation to decide on our 'good idea' definition."

"Can you please explain to me what exactly is happening?"

"Big Latin words or monosyllabic English words?"

"Better start slow."

"Abby. Zug zug." This is accompanied by much waggling of eyebrows and the international sign for 'hot'. I laugh and she smiles back.

"Okay, maybe monosyllabic isn't going to help."

"There is an attraction. It's based on mutual personal and professional respect and trust with a healthy dose of physical thrown in. We've known her a long time and I can think of few people we're closer to as a couple. We're now living in close proximity and essentially sharing custody of our son with her."

I sigh and try to shake the feeling of déjà vu. Because I remember the last two times someone picked up the snow globe that is my life and shook it hard and how the repercussions still rippled.

"I thought it was just between the two of you," I say, seeing from her sharp look that I said it aloud. I shake my head and brush my hand over my face. "What's going to happen?"

"Nothing that we don't want to happen. Nothing that will hurt any of us," Kim replies. Or rather, Dr. Legaspi replies as her tone and body language shift. "You told me about three years ago that you didn't know what the rules where."

"I remember." I remember a lot of things that have happened over the last few years and some of it must have shown on my face.

"Ker?" she prompts, kneeling in front of my chair. I pause and take a chance because this is the first time I've called Kim on a lie.

"That conversation, between you and Abby, it wasn't quite that way. Was it?"

She hesitates. "No."

"When?" I ask but I already know the answer.

She hesitates again. "There were some really bad nights, Kerry. Nights were I couldn't be with you and I couldn't be alone." She pauses and the grief takes over her expression. Not sharp anguish but a softer sorrow. "And I needed to be held but not by someone who was hurting as much as me."

"Abby," I say and she nods.

"I…" she closes her eyes and I wonder what she's going to confess to before I place my fingers across her lips.

"You and I have an understanding, right? That neither one of us will do anything to hurt the other or our relationship." She nods against my hand. "Nothing that happened then, especially with Abby, affects that."

"But you don't know what happened." I wait and she buries her face into her hands. "Hell, I don't know exactly what happened. We had the conversation but it was to end it, not to not begin."

I kiss the crown of her head. "Did it help you?"

She nods, still hiding.

"Did it hurt her?"

"Yeah. It did," she whispers. "I did."

"Did it change how you felt about us?"

She glares up at me. "No, of course not."

"How you felt about Abby?"

She nods, shakes her head and then shrugs. "More like how I could potentially feel for Abby."

That was a bit more honesty than I was prepared for. "Which is?"

She stares at me, mock angry. "You were the one kissing her back, Weaver."

"Oh. Yeah. That."

"That. Now, do you need to talk or process?"

Sometimes being married to a psychiatrist has it benefits. "Process a bit."

She nods and leaves abruptly. Most people would hover. Kim gives space. I putter around the kitchen for a bit before heading upstairs and finding her at the computer workstation in the corner of our room. She's frowning at something so I pick up her hair brush and approach with just enough noise to alert her.

"Being able to access work email from home was a stupid idea."

"I know."

She sighs, "At least this way I'm not coming back to six million messages." She clicks off the monitor and stares at me in the reflection. "You okay?"

"Pretty much. You?"

She sighs again, this time in pleasure, as the brush smoothes her hair. "Oh, yeah. Not sure why, though. This should be a shocking and upsetting thing."

"Because," I say casually, running the brush through her hair, "You love her. You've been half in love with her since before she moved in and especially for the last year and a half."

She stares at me in the reflection, caught between the automatic denial and the truth. "How…?"

"My advantage is that I know how you are when you're in love. And you are."

She stares ahead and I continue to brush, long smooth strokes that are totally unnecessary for anything other than our pleasure.

"I… um, I haven't been neglecting you or making you…" she says as she turns on the dressing table stool until she is facing me.

"No," I answer honestly. "And more importantly you haven't been over solicitous." I allow her to pull me forward, straddling her lap and she hugs me tight. "What do we do now?"

"Wanna watch Tomb Raider until she comes back with Gabe?"

"Not exactly what I meant but sure. And when she gets back?"

"She can watch too."

+++++

"He's asleep," Abby says as she comes down the stairs. She hesitates and then enters the living room. "Transfer from stroller to crib was successful. Are you two going to hog the couch?"

We shift apart, I closer to the light and Kim deeper into her corner of the couch never taking her eyes off the screen. I will never be able to understand how she can watch this movie so many times.

"Shhh, this is the best part."

Abby grins as she flops down in between us. "According to you, Stretch they're all the best part."

"Thanks for taking him on the loop," I whisper to Abby, referring to the five block lap that we've determined marks the limits of Gabe's ability to remain awake.

"No problem," she says, staring down at her feet. "Although I'm glad it's Stretch's turn tomorrow night. You'd think I worked a double shift. Oh, wait, I did."

Without comment Kim bends over, scooping Abby underneath her calves and twisting her so that her feet are over Kim's lap.

"Whoa!" Abby says as she suddenly finds herself rotating as well. I barely have time to move my book when, off balance, she flops onto my lap. She grins up at me. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Don't fight it," I reply, back of my hand to my forehead. "The fates have once again thrown us together."

"Shhh, this is…"

"… the best part," Abby and I chorus.

"If you know that, why do you two keep talking? Kerry, you have to stop reading those trashy romance novels. And Abby, don't encourage her. Now, both of you hush."

"When did you get so bossy? OhmyGodthatfeelsgoodpleasedon'tstop."

As I've lost her to Kim's foot massage I return to my book. Which is not a trashy romance. At least, it's not trashy. Okay, it is trashy but its fun and easy on the brain so that I can plan tomorrow's schedule, listen for Gabe and listen to Abby and Kim chat quietly. Or Abby chat and Kim say hush a lot.

"Hush, best part."

I put the book on the table beside the couch because this time she's right. I watch her fly on the TV screen and vicariously feel the freedom. Soon it will become violent again and I will return to my book but for now I watch the movie.

Movement catches my eye and I look down to see Abby's face, her eyes impossibly dark as she watches me watch the TV. And, without thought or intent, I bend slightly, brushing my lips against hers. This is our second kiss, the first that I have initiated, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can think of no reason to ever stop.

I'm aware of Kim shifting sideways, turning her attention from the television to us. I'm aware of the sound of explosions and gunfire from the sound system which seem to match the pyrotechnics in my head. I'm aware of the feel of my hand on the flat of Abby's stomach and the slow warmth as a hand laces fingers with mine. I feel another hand moving ever so slowly across the back of my neck and into my hair so that I am guided and held. But everything is vague and distant except for the texture of Abby's mouth and the sound of mingled breathing.

Finally I pull away enough for her to look up, half smiling at me.

"Do you know what's happening here?" she asks softly. I can't speak so merely shake my head. "Good," she says, "I hate being at a disadvantage. What happens now?"

"Now," Kim says, "we go to sleep. Ker and you have early shift and Gabe is a slave to routine." She extricates herself from Abby and stands, helping first Abby and then myself to our feet.

"Well, good night then," Abby says, taking a half step toward the apartment door before she's stopped by Kim's fingers tucked into her belt.

"Wrong way, Short Stuff." Hands still in her belt she push guides Abby to the stairs.

"I'll clean up here," I say. It's a cursory cleaning. The DVD away, the dirty glasses to the sink, a bookmark for my novel and the remotes back to the Big Box of Remotes on the coffee table. I recognize that this is half my being anal about clutter and half to give myself time to rationalize what is happening. But after a few minutes I accept the fact that there is nothing in the least bit rational so I simply turn the lights out on the rest of the mess and head upstairs.

Abby's sitting in bed staring at the ceiling wearing one of Kim's oversized T-shirts, this one with the ugly bulldog. A 49ers shirt is lying on the foot of the bed and I place the crutch by the night table and begin to change as unselfconsciously as I can.

"Why are there patches in the ceiling? They're too regular for rain damage and too small for light fixtures."

I look up. Sure enough, two years have caused the patches to fade differently from the rest of the ceiling. Time to redecorate.

"An early experiment with reflective material," Kim says as she leaves the en suite wearing a Coyotes jersey.

"I didn't know you liked hockey." Abby says. "Or mirrors on the ceiling."

"I like the shirt, not the game. And the mirror served its purpose."

I've taken the opportunity of their attention being elsewhere to quickly change but the next step eludes me. I look at Kim, hoping that the confusion-induced terror isn't showing too badly.

Fat chance.

"Okay, Kerry gets a side because of her hip. Do you have a preference, Abby?"

"I'll take the other side. After all, I once told you I'd never come between you two," she says with a mischievous grin.

We arrange ourselves, a little awkwardly at first, until we finally settle like three spoons.

"Kerry should be in the middle. It's warm."

"I had the middle last time."

"Then I get it next time," Abby says, her voice distant and drowsy.

We say goodnight, Kim thankfully resisting the urge to add John-Boy to the list and I drift off.

I awake in the night. I'm lying on my stomach, my hands holding Kim's under my pillow and my head between the diamond created by arms. I lift myself onto my elbows, shaking my head out from under the comforter and look around.

Kim is lying on her back, one arm is flung over her head so that she can hold my hand. Abby lies tucked beside her, on her side with leg and arm sprawled over Kim. I'm not surprised to see that their hands are entwined on top of Kim's stomach.

I wonder what it is that links the three of us. If it is Kim, as she is physically doing now, or Gabe or something else.

"You awake?"

From the light from the window I see Kim's eyes looking at me. "Yeah," I say, "not sure why. Why are you awake?"

"Guess I'm still not use to Gabe sleeping through the night yet. I usually get up around now and then drift off."

I nod. "You comfortable? We have you pinned."

She squeezes my fingers. "I'm fine. It's pure luxury to be able to sleep on my back again. And, from where I am, I'm the one that has you pinned."

I settle back down and Kim adjusts the comforters and pillow so that I'm basically buried again. "Kim?"

"Hm-mmm."

"Do you know what's happening?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't either. Not exactly."

"Does it scare you?"

"No. No it doesn't," she says and I grunt a good. "But, Ker. The ball's in your court. Were we go depends on you. You know that, right?"

"I know that" and I do. "Phoenix. Always reborn," I say, as I begin to drift off.

"This time maybe without the flames," Kim whispers as I fall asleep.

 

**SEPTEMBER**

The first visual clue is the pool of water that has formed around the soaking leather jacket. Usually Abby has a better regard for the shared spaces of the house. Not to mention her jacket. I hang it and my own rain jacket in the closet, making sure both are hanging free and over a boot tray.

She's listening to the Clash. Loudly. Never a good sign but when the song ends and clicks back to repeat I realize it's a bad sign. Hesitantly I enter the living room and look around. The TV is muted, channels flipping by at a near subliminal speed. She glances up at me, expression neutral and turns back to the TV.

Okay. The evil omens just keep on coming

I go to the stereo, look at her questioningly and snap off the power. I'm ignoring the boots on the coffee table. The bottle of Scotch and single tumbler beside it are harder. I risk looking fully at her but she seems engrossed with the TV.

She's angry and it reminds me of Kim's cold fury with a touch of Luka's dark sullenness. I wonder idly if you acquire these traits from your lovers and, if so, what they take from me.

"Most people walk to cool off," I point out into the silence.

"I'm not most people," she says with a short bark of anger.

"I get that."

"Do you have any idea what a control freak you are? You set everything up in case you die. Kim and Gabe will have me around, all legal, all binding, all taken care of." I nod. "You planning on dying anytime soon Kerry?"

Fear. It was anger and fear.

"No. No, nothing like that. It was just in case. It wasn't me setting my affairs in order."

She relaxes ever so slightly and I see some of the anger and fear bleed off. "Good. Because if you die on us, Kerry, I'm going to kill you," she says seriously. I nod.

We stare at each other for several minutes but she breaks first. "What do you want, Kerry?"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed back."

"I know that," I answer tightly, annoyed that people seem to feel the need to remind me. As if I needed reminding. The question that occurred to me the day after starts to verbalize despite my attempts to quiet it. "Was that because of Kim? What I think you suggested. Is that because of Kim? I mean…," I struggle to find the words that don't make it all sound sordid and desperate.

"Am I willing to sleep with you so that I can sleep with Kim? Or stop feeling guilty for having slept with her in the past?"

Any more brutal honesty tonight and I'm going to just shut down. "Something like that."

"No. Nothing like that."

I nod, head dropping to stare at the floor unseen, not quite believing her because if I did that it would imply that…

"No," she repeats, suddenly right there and lifting my chin and I wonder who she's looking at because it can't be me because only two other people have ever looked at me like that and…

"Oh, God," I breath.

"It is nothing like that," she continues, unaware of my little revelation. "This is not about Kim and I or Kim and you. Right now this is about you and me."

I nod, unable to speak.

"Drink?" she asks suddenly and I nod before I realize it. She twists the cap and I hear the little snickt of the paper seal tearing. She picks up the glass and I release a breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

"That's fine," I say when she's poured out a finger but she merely snorts in amusement and fills it up as if it were apple juice.

"I swear, Kerry. You're the only one of us that doesn't know how to drink.

She sets the tumbler down in my general direction, hard enough to slosh some liquor onto the table. On purpose. Daring me to comment and change the subject. To wipe it up and distract us from the conversation that has been looming over us for the last month.

I ignore the spill, pick up the tumbler and drink half of it before sitting on the edge of the easy chair as she returns to the couch.

Silence.

"Where's Kim?"

"With Gabe."

"Where's Gabe?"

"With Kim."

Obviously this is going to be an uphill battle. The drink is three-quarters gone and the false bravery of alcohol has yet to make an appearance.

"Where are Kim and Gabe and for how long?"

She glares at me. "Christie's. All night."

Suddenly sitting is too static so I stand and turn my back to her. Osentiously to turn off the TV but to actually hide the terror I know is screaming in my eyes.

"Abs," I say, turning and she's right there.

It is totally unfair that someone wearing boots can move so quietly on a hard wood floor.

"Yes, Kerry?" she asks but I've forgotten what I was going to say. I step to the side but she follows.

"Abs," I try again.

"Kerry," she prompts when I fail. We're doing the personal space dance, me retreating and her moving closer and triggering another retreat.

I grasp at a straw. "Why are they at Christie's?" I realize that it's a mistake as soon as she smiles.

"That's where they went when I told her to clear out until I got an answer out of you."

"Answer?"

She nods. "Out of you," she affirms.

"About…" I ask and my eyes dart to the couch.

"Yeah, well," she says, "I'm pretty sure that's the only question on the table."

"Maybe I haven't decided yet," I say, stalling for time and sanity. I am denied both.

"I know you. You'd come to a decision within 12 hours."

"You know me?"

"Oh, yeah."

"If you do, then what did I decide."

She smiles and somehow moves closer. "You came up with a dozen reasons why it would be a bad idea. Why the answer should be no."

I feel a flood of relief as sanity reigns. Briefly.

"But I know you," she repeats. "If you were going to tell me an honest 'no' you'd have done it the next day."

There's a dull thump as I back into the wall. "So," I say, trying to make it a question but failing.

"So the answer, despite the dozen reasons to the contrary, is yes."

"Sixteen," I say and she shakes her head slightly. "Sixteen reasons why it should be no."

She nods. Not smiling but without the anger which seems to have disappeared once we began to talk. "I know you. It's easy for you to deny. To say no because that has the fewest risks and repercussions. So I know that the answer is yes."

"Now," she continues, still in my personal space and showing no signs of backing off, "I know me and I know I'm good at deny. I'm good at self-control. I'm good at not wanting what I can't or shouldn't have. I'm fucking excellent at noble. So if you tell me that this isn't going to happen then it won't happen. But today…"

"Yeah?" I whisper as she pauses melodramatically.

"But today I have a special offer."

"What?"

"You can lie to me."

"What?"

"You. Can. Lie. You can tell me the answer is no and as many or few of the sixteen reasons you want."

I shake my head. "Why is this a special offer?"

"Because today only I'll believe you. I'll believe this," and she touches my lips briefly, "and not this" and she touches my forehead.

"You can do that?"

"Of course I can." The smile is instant and brilliant. "Kerry, I spent years lying to myself so I don't even notice. That I don't want my degree or a drink or a cigarette or a person. And I don't. When I couldn't have Kim, you couldn't tell, could you?"

I think. "No," I answer. "Not from you."

"Then tell me. Now. And it will be my truth."

I open my mouth to tell her. But I can't lie to her. Not when she's just lied to me.

I lace the fingers of my left hand through her right. "It will be hard. People who accept homosexuality won't accept this. A relationship with one doctor is hard, two is difficult and three would be insane. I'm taciturn, solitary, stubborn and Kim claims I snore. Kim is annoyingly verbose, gregarious, mercurial but doesn't snore. It could only work if we were equals and used the differences in life experience, age and beliefs as an advantage rather than some exclusive right. At home you'd have to stop being the martyr, I'd have to stop being the alpha bitch and Kim would have to stop trying to psychoanalyze us. All of us will have to make sure the others get solitude when they want or need it even if they don't realize the need."

"Just say no, Kerry." She smiles and I know I've made the right decision.

"I can't," I whisper, tightening the grip on her fingers when her own grasp loosens.

"Kerry?"

"It's too big a lie. Even for me. What you mean to Kim and she to you. What Gabe means to you."

I feel her fingers on my right hand, gently prying them from the hand grip. "And you," she asks softly?

I lean forward until our foreheads bump together. "And what you mean to me, which I'm still figuring out. But it's too big not to try."

She trembles slight as the tension eases out of her slowly and I wait, connected at those three points, until she is calm and still.

"It will be hard," I repeat and she nods against me before straightening up. She lifts my hand totally free of the grip, watching my face. She slips the cuff off. "May I?"

I nod, not knowing exactly what she's asking and am, therefore, surprised when she slips on the crutch. I'm trying to gauge my own reaction to this but find myself smiling as she takes a step back and then forward and nearly trips herself.

"Well?" I ask.

"It's hard and awkward but with practice…"

I smile. "Just like life, really."

"Just like life," she agrees. She places the crutch beside me making no attempt to put it back on my arm and reclaims my hands. "You do snore, you know."

"No, I don't." She nods her head. "Now what?" I ask.

"Now I kiss you."

"Oh."

"Try not to be too terrified."

"I'm not."

"We used up your special offer to change my world view on the snoring."

"I'm terrified, Abby."

"Me too. But it'll be okay."

She leads this dance with learning kisses that remind me of those three times Kim and I found each other and the hours spent merely kissing and holding. But the first base kiss slowly escalates with races and pauses as she guides, adapting and waiting for me to adapt.

"Jesus," she says, finally breaking away and I can feel her body trembling through our linked hands. "Stop it or take it horizontal. Easy, easy," she adds quickly when my hands clench. "I'm having trouble standing, not that. Not yet."

My id protests vocally despite my egos best attempt to sound like it's in control and she laughs.

"Not yet," she laughs. "But soon."

I nod. Recognizing the truth. "Stay with me tonight?"

"Don't want to sleep alone?" she asks, rubbing her forehead against mine.

"Sort of. Don't want to sleep without you."

"Oh, God." She goes instantly still and then releases her breath. "I love you," she says and I know that she didn't mean to say it. Not here and not yet. But she makes no attempt to call it back or obfuscate it with qualifications. I sigh and let my head fall back until it touches the wall and feel her lips touching my neck and the scar tissue there sings as she brushes against it.

I wait until she draws back to look at me, waiting until she raises her eyes to look into mine. They aren't words I say lightly or causally. Two times I've said them when my heart was also promising forever and it's a promise I've never broken. I make it three.

"I love you."

+++++

I wake, much later, to the quiet murmur of voices. Still drowsy I debate forcing myself awake or settling back into the warm nest that I seem to be in.

"Go back to sleep, Ker. Kim's home."

"Couldn't stay away, eh, Legaspi?" I ask.

"Christie kicked me out. We're to come for lunch and pick up Gabe."

"'kay," I murmur, the heartbeat under my ear lulling me back to sleep. The voices continue, weaving into my dreams and I sleep.

 

**Epilogue One - The View From Within**

Kerry is watching her every expression, listening to her every sound, feeling her every response with a fierce concentration reserved for her patients and lovers. From experience I know it's like being hypnotized, that it takes a supreme act of will to break her gaze. But Abby does, turning briefly toward me, including me emotionally in the physical act before she's drawn back into Kerry's eyes. I wait, watching the rhythms I know, for the perfect moment.

It arrives.

Kerry murmurs something to her as I reach out, my hand splaying across the small of Abby's back and, with that, her body suddenly stills, caught in the little death for an immeasurable time before she partially relaxes, head falling towards Kerry's shoulder. My hand moves slightly up her spine and I feel them, a ripple of aftershock tremors that subside as she holds herself over Kerry. Blindly Kerry reaches toward me, her palm cupping my cheek but I turn to kiss it slowly, watching her eyelids flutter closed and then open before she nuzzles Abby, whispering something into her ear. With that Abby collapses, falling to the bed, and Kerry kisses her before turning to me so that I can kiss them both.

We snuggle in to sleep, a tangle of limbs, hair and breath that Kerry calls the meerkat nest. My one hand rests on a hip while the other toys with strands of dark hair. I feel a leg holding me tight while a hand draws comforting circles on my forearm. Over the past few years we've developed our own rituals and routines, created and recreated our rules, formed our own traditions for public and private life.

This isn't a traditional relationship. Which doesn't matter because none of us have really ever had that for any length of time. The core, though, the core of what we are is pure and right.

Kerry asked me once what tied us together, thinking that it might be Gabe or the year of fire or myself. The truth is simpler, as truth often is.

It's simply love.

 

**Epilogue Two - The View From Without**

It's strange. You watch them at work, even if they think they're alone, and you could never tell they're lovers. Sure there's little things that speak of a bond. Like Kim placing her hand on the small of their back when they meet, Kerry holding a chart until the other takes it rather than just passing it or Abby's slight smile when she spots them. There is intensity to some of their conversations but they don't hug or kiss or hold hands or gaze longingly into each other's eyes when at the hospital. Heck, Kim even leaves her office door open if she's alone with one of them. But few, if any, see it let alone understand it. Trust me because I've watched people watch.

"People watching?"

Randi knows. And, of course, she knew before I did and hadn't mentioned it until I'd figured it out on my own. As always she was fiercely protective about Kerry and smug in her exclusive knowledge.

"Just watching my favourite couple, Randi."

"You know, most people consider 'couple' to mean two."

"I'll remember that next time you say you'll be ready in a couple of minutes."

"Bite me, Foster."

"Marry me, Randi?"

She laughs, like she always does. "Someday I'll say yes."

"Someday I'll stop asking so it'd better be soon." But it's an empty threat and we both know it.

She looks over my shoulder at the trio and then at me. "What do you think about when you look at them like that?"

"The view from outside," I reply. She shakes her head so I explain. "The view from here is a relationship that most would consider unconventional and some deviant. And then I think how I grew up, looking like the poster family of the American dream and how it was really rotten and twisted. The view from here, from the outside versus the view from the inside, the reality."

"And the view from the inside of those three?"

I shrug. "Family is family. It can only be defined from within."

Peter Benton arrives from day care with the children in hand. Reece spots me and begins frantically signing the nickname the kids use for me. A few seconds later young Gabe catches on, pulling his hand free from Peter's and following Reece, mimicking his hand signs with the all the concentration that a three year old can show for his ten year old hero, before grabbing at my lab coat and trying to pull himself up.

"Thanks for bringing him down, Peter," Kim says as the adults converge at the admit desk. "Gabe, Dr. Foster isn't a climbing toy."

"Fly, Doctor Bunny!"

I'm pretty sure that the four adults in front of me are too kind to openly smile or laugh. The so-called adult behind me isn't.

"Oh, yeah, Dr. Bunny. Fly!" Randi laughs, pushing me forward into a clear spot. I pull off his glasses and hand them to Kerry.

I hold him, a three-year-old bundle of energy with blue eyes and dusty brown hair. He looks back fearlessly, arms already reaching up the ceiling.

"Mommy! Mab! Mom! Look!" he commands and obediently Kim, Abby and Kerry watch as I toss him straight up. The flight is an illusion, brief seconds when no one is holding him and there is slight sensation of movement. In a short time this will be passé but for now, to him, he's flying up toward the heavens.

"Again!"

I comply as ordered and, as we catch each other, I add a spin so that I'm facing the crowd at the admit desk. "Marry me?" I mouth silently to Randi. I figure Reece read it from the look of disgust on his face. I know Randi did. And for the first time she doesn't smile when I ask. For the first time she nods her head.

"Fly again, Dr. Bunny!" Gabriel demands. "I have wings!"

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> The songs are:  
> A Good Mother by Jann Arden.  
> Misguided Angel and Blue Moon Revisited by The Cowboy Junkies  
> I'm pretty sure the Clash song is Should I Stay or Should I Go


End file.
